


Your Eyes are Sad Like Mine

by iamtraassshh



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hélène is sad, Marya is sad, Mild Hurt/Comfort, literally just angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtraassshh/pseuds/iamtraassshh
Summary: In which Marya and Hélène are both very sad and do not know how to communicate for the life of them
Relationships: Marya Dmitryevna Akhrosimova/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Your Eyes are Sad Like Mine

“I really love you, you know.” 

Hélène startled and felt the air rush out of her. She and Marya were huddled close together under a blanket with something on the TV that neither was really watching. It was a normal evening for them, nothing special going on, so Marya saying that came out of the blue for her. They’d never said it before, Hélène because she wasn’t ready and didn’t really think she’d ever be, and Marya because she wasn’t going to say something she couldn’t take back until she wouldn’t have to. 

“You don’t need to say it back,” Marya mumbled into Hélène’s hair, “But I should like some kind of response.” 

Hélène sat up, “I- you-” 

Marya sat up behind her, “Sweetie?” She said with growing concern expressed on her face. 

Hélène swallowed, “You don’t know what you’re saying.” Her voice broke and she felt tears threatening to fall. All she could think of was the way she had somehow manipulated Marya into thinking her words were true. That’s what everyone said of her, she was manipulative, she’d never had anything sincere in her life no matter how hard she tried. And Hélène, iron as her will may be, eventually let it get to her. She didn’t understand how she’d coaxed Marya into feeling like that, even if it wasn’t her intent, but it was her firm belief that somehow she did. How else could Marya feel that? Say that? 

Marya wrapped her arms around Hélène’s waist, gently pulling her back into her lap and resting her head on the other girl’s shoulder, a somber look in her eyes. “Oh, angel,” She sighed, “You have to know I mean it with absolute certainty.” 

Hélène shook her head, her voice catching in her throat, “You- think you do but...you can’t.” 

Marya pulled her head back and gazed into her lover’s eyes, brimming with tears and looking so lost it almost broke Marya’s heart. “Hélène,” Her voice was steady but her eyes were watery and full of questions. She couldn’t comprehend what Hélène was saying, did she honestly think Marya couldn’t love her? “What do you mean?” 

“I mean that- people have...said that before, but they didn’t mean it.” 

“I’m different-” 

“Are you?” It came out much harsher than Hélène had intended and she immediately regretted it. 

Marya didn’t respond and instead brought her sleeve up to her face to wipe away the tears that had started trickle down. It occurred to Hélène that she had never seen Marya cry, the woman always looked so strong, her head held high even at her lowest moments. Heart heavy with the knowledge that she had done this, Hélène cupped Marya’s face in her hand, bringing her other one to rest on the ginger woman’s hair. 

“Masha,” She said gently, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, you’re-” Hélène drew in a breath, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She chuckled harshly, trying to contain her tears. She couldn’t stand the sight of Marya crying, it felt like a great statue, symbolizing kindness and strength, being torn down at her request. 

“I’m not crying for me,” Marya’s voice was clear as ever, though her face was wet and blotchy, and her hands curled into fists, her voice remained strong, “I’m crying because you don’t think I could love you. And...that means I failed, I failed you.” 

Her words struck like a dagger in Hélène’s heart, tearing her in two. Internally, she was beating herself up even more for letting Marya think that when the complete opposite was true. Hélène pulled Marya impossibly closer as if that would solve anything and whispered fragilely to her, “Baby you didn’t fail me, you saved me.” 

Hélène felt Marya convulsive in her arms and she didn’t need to see the woman’s face to know the broken look in her eyes

“Then why,” There was pain in her voice, “Why can’t you see how much I love you, how much you mean to me?”

Hélène sighed, there was so much she wanted to say. She wanted to tell Marya that everyone else who claimed to love her grew to hate her, how the words she’d heard from them had drowned out Marya’s, and maybe always would. She wanted to tell Marya she was too broken, wanted to beg her to find someone else that would appreciate Marya’s unshakeable love and fondness instead of doubting it. But she couldn’t, as much as she doubted Marya’s love she needed it, craved it, hungered for it, and she knew that made her selfish, knew she was taking what couldn’t be given back. But she wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. 

She rested her head on Marya’s shoulder, “I don’t know, love, I don’t know.” 

Hélène wasn’t sure what she expected in response but the heartwrenching sob Marya let out that shook both of them was not it. The older woman slammed her head into her knees and snaked up her head, grabbing fistfuls of hair as if to remind herself her head was still there. 

Hélène balked, she had never seen Marya like this, and the knowledge that she had caused it made her want to scream, to pierce a dagger through her own heart. She almost left, left with the resolve to never return, to never hurt Marya again. She was only stopped by the pathetic whimper she heard from her lover, a small chant of “I’m sorry” that would have brought tears to Hélène’s eyes if they weren’t already there. 

She started to rub small circles on Marya’s back, “Shh baby, you have nothing to be sorry for. Oh, Masha…” 

Marya violently shook her head from under Hélène’s gentle hand. In her mind, she had everything to be sorry for. She wasn’t loving enough for Hélène to believe she loved her, to believe she was loveable, wasn’t caring enough to make Natasha believe there was a reason for her to stay. She wasn’t enough for Hélène, wasn’t enough for Natasha, wasn’t enough for anyone. Not even enough for herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk if this is clear but the bit about Natasha and "a reason for her to stay" is about her suicide attempt at the end of Comet 
> 
> Comment make my day, just saying :D


End file.
